


What?!

by AliceMontrose



Series: The Dragon-Mage Series [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Shapeshifting, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMontrose/pseuds/AliceMontrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn has come, and Alain's stay at Varen's house is definitely getting more interesting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	What?!

Varen was doing it again. 

Alain grabbed the pillow and stuffed it over his head, hoping to all the gods the mage would be done with it already. This was worse than spending the night in the same room with his eldest brother. 

Sure, in his eldest brother's case, it was the snoring that annoyed Alain to no end. But Varen... Well, it appeared Varen seemed perfectly at ease with the fact that half the forest could probably hear when he was pleasuring himself. 

Regularly. Three times a week. With great vigour. 

As another moan rang through the house, Alain cursed out loud. Using some particularly foul language he'd learned from soldiers, because he didn't feel like being proper that night. 

It was not the moaning and groaning that bothered him the most. In fact, he did not object to them as much as he should have. The truth was, the man was simply too gorgeous for words and seemed quite aware of it. It had taken Alain a couple of weeks to stop turning his head away to hide his blush as Varen happened to walk around bare-chested. Which made sense, since it had been summer, but coming from the palace the prince had been used to a certain level of decency. Like wearing a shirt and pants that didn't look like they had been painted on. 

Not that the mage gave a damn what the current fashions were, or about high-born sensibilities in general. He just did as he pleased, and had laughed at Alain's suggestion to wear more clothing. Had laughed even louder when the prince had asked why he wasn't wearing any robes like all mages did. He'd finally explained that this was his house, so he'd wear what he pleased, and he was certainly not touching any stuffy mage robes with anything other than a long pole. 

And ever since he'd accidentally walked in on the mage as he was just drying from his bath and had caught sight of him fully naked, Alain had been doing some of his own pleasuring at night. Which was easier when another's voice covered your own sounds of pleasure, and even helped you along. 

But when that very person had told you not a few candlemarks before that you had to get up _before dawn_ and accompany him halfway down the mountain just to pick a few healing herbs, those sounds became simply too frustrating. 

Some more moaning, making Alain want to shred the pillow. Or Varen's throat. Either would do, really. 

Alain had to sleep. He _needed_ to sleep. 

Deciding that this had to stop, he got up, crossed his room and the living area, then threw back the door to Varen's room and shouted, "Varen, do you think you can possibly... fuck!" 

It looked like the mage wasn't only loud, he was also quite shameless. No sense of decency whatsoever, to at least pleasure himself _underneath_ the covers. Though to be fair, the sight of that toned body stretched out, head thrown back, legs spread out, one hand lazily massaging a sizeable erection... 

Then Varen turned his head and smirked, and Alain decided that he really, really shouldn't be fair tonight. Honestly. Being fair didn't do his breathing a whole lot of good. 

But he made the mistake of looking into Varen's eyes, and he suddenly wasn't able to move anymore, could only stare as the mage rose from the bed and walked towards him, slowly, hips swaying just enough to make Alain's breath quicken a little more. Still smirking, and his eyes... 

Alain hadn't known that a mage's eyes could glow in the dark. Was that _natural_? 

Varen's chuckle sounded incredibly loud just then, and it seemed to break the spell. Alain tried to bolt from the room, but the mage's arm promptly blocked his path. Then Varen was standing between him and the door, giving Alain a thoughtful look. 

"Can I possibly fuck? I suppose I could, if you want me to," he replied, as if he were really considering the possibility. 

But he couldn't be... couldn't think Alain would want... 

Could he? 

Fingers touched his upper arms and the prince found himself frozen into place once more, though it was certainly not a spell this time. More like uncertainty and fear. _Some_ uncertainty. _Lots_ of fear. Varen drew close, touched his chest, caressed his hair, sniffed at his neck... 

_... sniffed at his neck?_

"Well, you certainly smell of arousal. Does my body turn you on, princeling?" 

The question left Alain so baffled all he could do was blurt out, "What?!" 

Varen snorted at his outrage. "No need to be rude. If you wanted to have sex with me, you could have asked." 

" _What_?!" 

The mage pulled back and shook his head. "Honestly now. Here you are, asking me if I can fuck you..." 

"I wasn't...!" 

"... and then you get this panicked look in your eyes and want to flee. As if I would mind. You _are_ quite good-looking, you know." 

Now Alain was blushing furiously, and it was not all shame either. Varen thought him good-looking. Varen! Who was, even now, standing in front of him with not a stitch of clothing on and still hard, moonlight coming through the beaded curtains painting fascinating patterns on his skin as he moved forward... 

Alain didn't resist as an arm snaked around his waist and he was pulled forward. Varen buried his face against Alain's neck and breathed in deeply, then brushed away a few rebel strands of hair and placed a quick kiss there. "Do you want me to make love to you, Alain?" he purred. 

"I... I don't know if..." 

"It will be a long winter. Warmer if you don't spend it alone. I won't mind if you say no. Honestly. But if you want to..." 

Alain hesitated. The mage had a point, it would be warmer to curl up against someone, and certainly nicer. And Varen _had_ secretly made his blood stir for a while now. It was just that it didn't seem proper to... 

Oh. Varen and 'proper'. Two terms that were not exactly compatible. 

"... I want to," he whispered. His mind wished Varen hadn't heard; his body desired exactly the opposite. So he was caught somewhere in between, waiting, hoping - not sure exactly what he was hoping for. 

There was nothing wrong with the mage's hearing, however, and his answer was to find the bulge in Alain's pants and cup it in his hand, rubbing it with sure, slow strokes. It felt... nice. Warm. Strangely safe. Alain enjoyed it, leaned into it. Moaned a little as Varen licked his neck, rubbing harder. 

Then the hand was moving away and he was suddenly following it, not sure if it was his own feet leading him or Varen's arm around him, and apparently not really caring. Though he should have - _would_ have, if he had been back at the palace. 

Of course, none of the palace mages behaved or looked as strangely - and fascinating - as Varen did. None had a body that would move like grace personified as it stretched out on darkly-patterned covers, movements seductive but not calculatedly so, beckoning for a touch, a taste... 

Then Varen reached out and dragged Alain down on top of him, and the prince did not want to truly consider what would be happening. Nor did it matter, for the time being. All he wanted, all he _needed_ , was to feel the cool skin under his hands and kiss the elegant neck. 

He hissed as long nails scraped downwards on his flanks, and Varen's delighted chuckle came in his ear. 

He gave Varen's mouth a tentative kiss, then pulled back intending to kissing the mage's throat next. 

"What was that?" 

Alain looked down and saw Varen lick his lips, slowly take his own bottom lip between his teeth, then let go of it slowly. "What was _that_?" he asked again. 

"A kiss?" 

One eyebrow rose as the corners of Varen's mouth twitched. Then the mage pushed himself up on one elbow and claimed Alain's mouth. His lips felt hungry, alive, and Alain had trouble understanding exactly what Varen was trying to do with his tongue... 

A sudden pinch on his backside had him yelp, and then that wicked tongue was in his mouth, pressing against his, teasing, tormenting, and it felt as if Varen was trying to devour him, steal his breath away. 

When he was finally allowed to breathe again, Alain stared at the mage as if he was seeing a different person. He touched his lips, wondering if they should really feel slightly swollen. "No one's ever done _that_ before..." he mused. 

The mage threw his head back and laughed. He rocked his hips too, and the movement made Alain moan appreciatively. "Your turn," he said. 

Alain blinked, then moaned again and had to support himself on one hand to stay on top of the mage as Varen kept moving under him. Taunting, distracting. "Kiss me," Varen demanded, running his nails up the prince's back; the sensation made Alain shiver in entirely wicked ways, " _like that_." 

He obliged. Tentatively at first, because it seemed so... impolite... to just stick your tongue in someone's mouth. But he had liked it, and that would mean Varen might enjoy it too. The mage's mouth still tasted of the vanilla cake they'd had for dinner, and something else, something strangely inviting... 

Then the mage's tongue found his and taught him a few more on the fine points of kissing, to which Alain didn't exactly protest. In fact, he found that he quite enjoyed it; though maybe not as much as he enjoyed the sensation of Varen's manhood brushing against his own, hot and hard, and the way in which he was once more held against the mage's body, his back explored by clever fingers that kept trailing down, down... 

His eyes flew open as one long-nailed finger brushed against his opening, and he moaned in protest, trying to pull away. But the hand holding him down refused to let him, and he had once more the confirmation that, though Varen may not be well-built there was hidden strength in him that could not be assessed by merely looking. 

"Let me guess," the mage murmured. "No one's ever done that before either." He made it sound silly, and Alain simply blushed and looked away. But then Varen was petting his thigh, soothing. "Very well then, let's stick to the things you know. Move against me." 

Alain looked at him, confused. Varen sighed and demonstrated. Since the prince's body seemed very pleased with the results, a certain part of him in particular, he decided that following Varen's commands might not be such a bad idea for now. He even experimenting with rotating his hips while he moved and drew a satisfied moan from the mage, and he thought that doing this all winter would not be bad. Not bad at all. Especially if Varen kept doing those fascinating things to his ear with his tongue... 

Fingers brushed against his entrance again and he tensed, but they moved past to rub at the tender area there and he moaned, pushing back against them. Oh yes, he definitely knew - and greatly enjoyed - _that_. Wanted more of it, actually, more contact with the caressing fingers, and the long nails that pushed teasingly at his sac as the fingers moved, rubbed, teased. 

He groaned, moving faster, and buried his face in Varen's hair. It smelled of fresh herbs and another, more subtle, scent. He had felt it before, but not recently, and the name eluded him. Some flower or another? He grabbed a fistful of long dark hair, satisfied that it was as silky as he'd thought it to be. 

Against his ear, Varen's breath quickened. A satisfied chuckle, a nip at Alain's throat as the prince ground back against his hand, and then came the words, a mere whisper, that were to be Alain's undoing. "Not tonight, princeling, but soon... soon, I'll have you on your back under me, and then I'll show you... show you what no one dared before... slowly torment you with my mouth and my fingers and then... yesss, then I ssshall take you..." - the dark promise made Alain shiver, made him want to know exactly what Varen was planning to do to him, and if it would be so wickedly pleasurable as the kissing - "take you... and make you enjoy it..." Varen lifted his hips at the same time as he pressed Alain against him, and it was suddenly too much friction for the prince to stand. He shuddered, threw his head back and came with a small cry. Varen's low, pleased moan that immediately followed assured him the mage had not, in fact, been far behind. 

He collapsed on top of the other man, content to just lie there as Varen caressed his back, kissed his neck again. Eventually the mage moved, turned them both on their sides and Alain looked down in great fascination as he proceeded to clean their seed from where it had splattered their bellies. First from himself, with his fingers, which he licked at as if they had been dipped in nectar. Then from Alain, with his tongue. 

The prince shuddered and closed his eyes, hoping Varen had nothing else planned for the night. Right then, all he wanted to do was sleep. Especially since, knowing the mage, he would still insist that they get up early in the morning. As had been planned. 

Lips against his and he tasted himself on them. He cracked open his eyes and was not sure what manner of man stared down at him. He had Varen's features but his eyes... the eyes were different. He remembered the glow from before, but the pupils fascinated him. Slit pupils. "Like a cat's," Alain murmured, reaching out to find warm skin under his hand. 

"Not quite," Varen replied, apparently amused. "Scoot over. We need to get some rest." 

So he fell asleep in Varen's bed that night, lulled by strange caresses and even stranger eyes. 

Morning, however, would bring its own surprises. The first being to wake up in an unfamiliar bed, back pressed against another body and an arm that had no inclination to be bulged around Alain's torso. He'd almost panicked, but then noticed another arm thrown over his head and the long golden nails with bluish edges. Varen's nails. 

Varen. 

Sex. 

Right. He'd had sex with Varen the previous night, and enjoyed it. He was, in fact, probably going to have sex with Varen the whole winter and enjoy it just as much, if not more. 

The thought made him blush a little, but he was no virgin. And cuddling did feel nice, even if judging by the light outside it was well past dawn... 

"Fuck!" 

"Mmm?" 

Well. That explained why he felt a slight chill against his left shoulder. Someone was breathing against it. 

"Varen. Time to get up." 

"Mmm!" Grumpy. A little nuzzle against Alain's back. Then the mage's hold on him tightening, a clear sign Varen was not planning on going anywhere. 

"Varen," Alain tried again. "You said we had to go gather those herbs _at dawn_. It's past dawn now." 

A grunt, another nuzzle. "It rained. Herbs are no good if it rained. Go back to sleep." 

Damn. 

The prince tried to get up. No such luck - the arm wouldn't let go. A sleepy growl this time. "Do you need to eat or use the outhouse?" 

What?! Erm... "No." 

"Good. Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable and go back to sleep." 

A piece of advice the mage seemed intent to follow himself, it seemed. 

Moody, impossible mage! 

Sure, Varen was also intelligent, looked not a day over thirty sun-cycles in spite of his age - which he still refused to reveal - and he was certainly experienced... but why did Alain have the feeling he had ended up in bed with a dragon? 

* * *

**~ The End ~**

* * *


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